His Little Flower (Felix and Flora)

When the hit didn’t come, I slowly looked to him. He was lost in his own thoughts.

“Dad?” I finally whispered, “Why?”

He sighed deeply, “I haven’t been a good father to you,” he said finally. “Not lately. Well…not since.”

He never willfully acknowledged the past to me. He only did so when I would bring it up. And that too, just to yell at me to never mention it, never bring it up again.

“You are a good father.”

As I said it, I didn’t even know if I meant it. But he was my father. And despite how things were now, I remembered all the times he had been good to me. When he had treated me like his sweet little girl.

Dad shook his head. “I do not treat you well, Flora. I am sorry. I am trying.”

The raw emotion in his voice made me tear up. I blinked back tears, lest they fell and he saw how affected by him I was.

He was my only family, anymore.

He looked at me, and reached out to cup my face. “You know I loved your mother,” he coughed, “I always will. You know that right?”

I nodded, the mention of my mother bringing real tears into my eyes. A sob broke through me, and tears flowed freely.

He didn’t love my mother, he never had. How could he do what he did to her if he loved her? How could he have left her behind?

But I still nodded.

If anything, I loved my mother. I loved her enough for the both of us.

This was a conversation I knew we needed to have, a journey into the past and a reckoning with our grief.

“Do you think of her?”

My father, who had been lost in thought, looked up at me with a mixture of sadness and. curiosity in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice soft and filled with sadness. “It’s been so long, Flora. Sometimes, sometimes, it feels like lifetime ago. Like that wasn’t ever our life.”

I nodded, my heart heavy. I knew all too well what he meant. “I miss her, Dad, I miss her so

much it hurts.”

I miss her too, my sweet girl. She was the heart and soul of our home. And she loved you more than anything in this world.”

I felt a lump in my throat as my eyes continued with tears. It had been so long since I had heard him say these three words. “I know, Dad. She was so kind and loving. She had this way of making even the worst days seem better.”

My father’s face crumpled, and I saw a tear escape from the corner of his eye. “Your mother. had a rare gift, Flora. She could find joy in the simplest things, and her laughter was like

music.

I thought back to those moments when we were a complete family, before…

“I remember those picnics she used to plan for us in the park. She’d pack a basket full of sandwiches and chocolate dipped strawberries, and we’d spend the whole day playing and laughing. It felt like nothing could touch us.”

A bittersweet smile touched my father’s lips. “Those were the best days of my life. Your

mother and her infinite love for life… she made every moment special.”

A heavy silence settled between us. I mustered the courage to ask a question that had Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

gnawed at me for years.

“Dad, why didn’t we talk about Mom after she passed? It’s like we both pretended she never existed. You forbade it.” My hands were shaking as I said this. Would this be the sentence that would end this sweet moment we were having after what seemed like years?

My father lowered his head, his eyes distant. “I guess we were both trying to cope with the pain in our own ways. Talking about her felt too painful, like…tearing open old wounds. I thought it was best to keep her memory locked away to shield us from the hurt.” His gaze bore into me, “I am ashamed, Flora.”

“She deserved to be remembered,” I said, my voice tinged with frustration.

He nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in my words. “You’re right, Flora. We should have

talked about not more, celebrited

hold myself together after she was gone.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and my voice trembled. I know, Dad

Ale tather reached out and took my hand. I wish we had, too, sweetheart. She would be proud of the woman you are, today. I am sorry, Bora, I took the easy life away from you.”

Ismailed through my tears, grateful for the opportunity to finally have this conversation. I shook my head, “I like this life, Dad. But I just just want to live it with you. To love you and be loved by you like you did.. before.”

“I know, sweet girl.”

He wrapped his arms around me, and we sat like that for God knows how long. His arms, tight around my shoulders, holding me close to him.

I had not known how much I missed my father’s love till now.

We spent the next few hours reminiscing about my mother. Each story brought warmth and comfort to our hearts, like her presence had returned to the room. We laughed, we cried, and we shared the profound impact she had on our lives.

In this moments, I felt a renewed connection with my father, as if the unspoken grief and guilt that had burdened us for years were slowly lifting. This was all I had ever wanted, For us to, at the least, acknowledge what had happened. To honor my mother’s memory. To remember her together. It could be our way of lotting her know we loved her. Even after

what he did.

When we finally went to sleep, it was 5 am. I could sleep for 2 more hours, and I’d be exhausted at work the next day. But it would be worth it.

I went to sleep with a renewed excitement for the next day. Maybe, just maybe, my Dad and I would mend our relationship. Maybe I would finally have him back. It was all I wanted.

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